"No," answered Mary unsteadily, "no;" she stretched out her hand and drew the other woman towards her; "but you—you have taken a strange part, my lady——"
"My lord," said the Countess earnestly, "hath served His Highness to his own extreme peril, and now I am come to plead a pardon for him from you——"
"But you yourself," urged Mary; "what have you felt towards these affairs?"
She rose, still holding the fluttering hand of Lady Sunderland, and looked steadily into her eyes.
"I have done as my lord directed," was the answer. "I have served him all my life. I shall serve him—always."
Mary dropped her hand. The thought that stirred her was that she could not judge, since that same unquestioning devotion ruled her life too.
"My lord his services," she said faintly, "are not such as the Prince can with honour reward."
"Nor," answered my lady with some pride, "such as he can with honour ignore——"
"He is apostate," said Mary; "that cannot be forgiven."
"It can be pardoned."